


Sinful Confessions

by jillyfae



Series: Sweetest of All Sounds [12]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blasphemy, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela and Varric tease Sebastian with their latest edition of friend fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinful Confessions

“Choir Boy!” Varric spread his arms wide, a grin creasing merrily across his face, leaning back into his chair at the head of the table. “The man of the hour arrives.”

Sebastian paused in surprise on Varric’s doorstep, eyes narrowing as he stared cautiously at the unusually exuberant dwarf. Varric greeted Adelaide like that all the time, of course; his delighted cry of “Hawke!” or “Lady!” could be heard echoing through the Hanged Man almost any time she arrived. _But I’m pretty sure he only talks to me at all to avoid upsetting her. Confounded by her taste, but too fond of her to make a fuss about it._

Thoughts of Adelaide were always pleasant ones, so Sebastian found it easy enough to smile, only a slight suspicious curve to the edges of his lips as he started moving again. “And why so pleased, Varric?”

“Why, you’re the inspiration for the latest edition, didn’t you know?” Isabela’s dark eyes were flashing with merriment from her seat on the table, _that does not bode well_ , long legs stretched out, boot-heels resting on the back of one of the chairs, a rather tattered paper pamphlet open across her thighs.

“Latest edition of?”

“This,” Fenris spoke up suddenly, throwing another pamphlet right at Sebastian’s chest, which he caught rather awkwardly against his breastplate, eyebrows raised as he glanced at his friend. _I probably don’t want to know, do I?_

“FENRIS!” Isabela pouted, “you’re ruining all our fun!”

Varric shook his head in apparent agreement. “You can’t just jump to the reveal without some proper dramatic build-up, Broody. Ruining all our preparations like that.”

“You’ve already had your fun at his expense.” Fenris’ growl was light enough to imply he was secretly amused at their antics. Not that he’d admit it. “Do you really think Hawke will appreciate your latest foray into publicizing your debauched flights of fancy?”

“It’s better to ignore them, not argue.” Aveline muttered softly. “Only way they ever stopped their Guards series, after all.”

“Oh,” Sebastian mouthed silently as realization blossomed, and the paper he was clutching seemed to grow hot under his fingers. _I really don't want to know. I don't. At all._

Yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He slowly tilted his chin down, turning the paper in his hand until he could see the simple block print cover. Two basic silhouettes, robed figures, impossible to even tell their genders. One standing, a hand reached out to rest upon the other’s head; the second one kneeling, hands clasped in a mockery of silent prayer, head wrapped in a brilliant red blindfold, the only spot of color among the black ink.

 _Oh, Void,_ that was much too evocative a pose not to cause a reaction. _Don’t blush. Don’t blush. It’s not really us, obviously. Just. Almost?_ Not that they were usually praying if there was a blindfold involved. And theirs was blue silk, not red. Adelaide liked blue. Said it had taken _weeks_ to find some in a shade so close to the color of his eyes.

He could feel his thoughts scrabbling around haphazardly, fingers clawing at his brain to determine which would get out and wreak havoc in public first. Anger, embarrassment, arousal. Embarrassment. _Silk._ He huffed out one quick breath, sending memories of silk and skin somewhere else, for just a bit. _Maker, grant me strength. Or at least the semblance of self-control? Please?_

“Oooh, look at that,” Isabela cackled. “You’re almost as red as the ribbon on the cover, Vael.” She leaned over to nudge at Varric. “Told you it was worth splurging to get a two-tone print, didn’t I?”

“You did, Rivaini,” Varric chuckled in agreement. “It does catch the eye.”

“Sinful Confessions?” Sebastian managed with a crack in his voice, having finally dragged his attention away from the art to read the title.

“That’s much too close to encouragement, for them,” Aveline sighed. “Sorry Vael, you’re doomed. And I want no part in this.” The Captain paused to give him a sympathetic slap on the shoulder. Which made him stagger, just a touch, it being, well, Aveline.

“You’re no fun, Miss Cranky-Pants!” Isabela pouted at the warrior’s back as she stalked out of the room with a sigh and a shake of her head.

“That’s Mrs Cranky-Pants ,” Aveline called back without even pausing in her heavy stride. “Goodnight, Miss No-Pants.”

Sebastian let their usual good-natured bickering wash over him, still staring at the cover of the pamphlet. Did he want to know what Varric had come up with? He certainly hadn’t wanted to even acknowledge the existence of _Siege Harder_ , but Adelaide had insisted on reading it to him, laughing merrily the entire time.

Truly, though, she had been quite determined to prove page 13 was actually anatomically possible after a few too many of his incredulous interruptions.

 _And that certainly ended well, after all._ He smirked, tilting his head as he considered the pages in his hands. Almost as if they possessed wills of their own, his fingers turned the pamphlet carefully and slowly opened it somewhere in the middle, his head leaning back and eyes squinting as if there was some way to read it without actually having to look at it.

> _”I have been a bad, bad girl, Sister Bastienne,” the mysterious lady whispered huskily from the far side of the screen. “You must punish me for my sins.”_

“You made me an _Orlesian_ Woman?!?”

“How would someone make you a woman?” The voice from the doorway caused everyone to turn, Merrill a step ahead of Hawke as they entered the room. “You’re not a woman. I’m sure you’d make a very pretty lady, though, if you wanted, all dressed in lace or silk?”

“What?” Adelaide raised one eyebrow as she took in Sebastian’s blush and attempted to follow Merrill’s nonsense. “Trust me, he’s not remotely ladylike where it counts."

“Tell that to Varric and Isabela,” Sebastian smiled at her, suddenly rather unconcerned with the latest edition of their friend fiction. _Maker, she takes my breath away every time I see her._

“Seemed more upset at being Orlesian than female, didn’t he?” Isabela grinned unrepentantly.

“I’m still confused.” Adelaide smiled back at Sebastian, eyes warm and bright.

_You don’t look confused. You look glorious._

“It’s not just me, for once?” Merrill grinned briefly at Sebastian as well, before bouncing over to her usual seat. “That’s such a relief. Please, Isabela, what are you talking about?”

Sebastian nodded politely at Merrill, but never really took his eyes off Adelaide, sliding forward to meet her halfway as she strode across the room.

“Just a moment, Kitten, Hawke will want to ask that herself when she starts listening again.”

Adelaide’s smile deepened, leaning up to put her lips at just the right angle, and he was both lost and found, all at once, unable to resist one soft gentle taste, his mouth on hers.

“Isn’t she listening right now?”

“Not really, Daisy.” The dwarf rumbled in the background.

“Ohhh,” Merrill’s drawn out sigh faded away just as Fenris coughed, and Sebastian made himself pull his mouth back. “You didn’t have to stop on our account,” the dalish continued brightly. “We would’ve waited.”

“I doubt they want to give Varric and Isabela more fodder for volume two,” Fenris suggested drily.

“Oh, Broody, we have plenty of material for volumes two through six if we were so inclined,” Varric chuckled.

“Plus, we have very good imaginations, for when reality insists on trying to be discreet.” Isabela swung her legs and slid off the table, offering another paper-booklet over to Hawke. “Here you go dear, so you can catch up on the conversation.”

“Sinful...” Hawke’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing slightly as she took in the cover, one quick glance at Sebastian through her eyelashes. “Uh.”

“Oh, that’s just what Vael did, too!” Isabela clapped her hands, four short staccato bursts accompanying her dark chuckle. “You two are simply adorable. Does that mean we got it right?” She leaned forward, her loud whisper clearly audible to everyone in the room. “Do you like the blindfold? I thought it was a nice touch.”

“Um. Very. Vivid?” Hawke was, for once, completely lacking eloquence. _Or an inappropriate joke, even._

“Oh, if you like vivid, you have to read this bit,” Isabela reached between Adelaide’s hands, turning pages until she found the scene she wanted. “That! I’m quite proud of that one.”

Sebastian couldn’t seem to resist stepping closer to Adelaide, leaning in towards her shoulder to read the pages with her. Which seemed to involve three people crammed into a small space, propped on a bench and a... screen for a handhold... and flickering candles...

“In the confessional! That's sacrilege!" He lifted his head to glare at Isabela. Who just grinned at him, of course. "Plus, they’re too small," he pointed at the offending passage, "there’s no way the man on the bottom here could get the right leverage to bend in that...” He trailed off at the sudden realization everyone was staring at him. Even Adelaide, who was biting her lip to muffle her laughter, her brown eyes practically dancing.

“Oh, Vael,” Isabela sighed, “you really were a wild one before the Chantry got their hooks in you, weren’t you? It is _such_ a shame I never met you then.”

“It’s a wonderful story, you know, if I do say so myself.” Varric spoke up from the other side of the room. “Very romantic, as well as having all the necessary spicy bits to keep our readers happy. A mysterious lady, torn between two forbidden passions: the Sister she has never seen, who speaks to her only through the screen of the confessional, and the handsome refugee from Starkhaven, hiding himself from wrongful persecution within her household.”

Sebastian blinked. “You made me two people?” _What does that even mean? Why? What? Were both of me in that scene in the Confessional? That’s... creepy?_

“Hmm, two Sebastians?” Adelaide practically purred for just a moment, before her eyebrows creased. “Wait, one of them’s an Orlesian Sister? That’s, well, not fun for me at all.”

Fenris let loose with one of his rare chuckles, though Sebastian wasn’t sure if the elf was laughing at Adelaide’s apparent definitions of fun, or the fact that he was pretty sure his entire face was lighting up by this point, not just his cheeks. _Probably both._

“Oh, Hawke, dearest, you are a _dreadful_ friend,” Isabela’s bottom lip stuck out, almost far enough to trip on, the back of one hand lifted to her forehead as she sighed. “You never tell me _anything_ about what fun you get up to, and I am forced to imagine and improvise.

“Besides,” her grin flashed brilliantly across her face, melodrama forgotten, “I know we had a perfectly lovely time, all those years ago, so you can’t be completely against Sisters.”

 _Maker,_ Sebastian swallowed rather desperately, abandoning all attempts to pretend he wasn’t blushing. He _knew_ about their one night, of course, but reminders inevitably brought up an awkward tangle of jealousy and lust, and he occasionally wished it had never happened, so he didn't have to think about it. Not that he doubted Adelaide, of course, despite the recurring desire to do something dramatic in front of Isabela to stake his claim. Only she'd probably like that. Or give him what she thought was constructive criticism and miss the whole point.

His trouble was, truly, he knew he’d really have liked to have gotten to _watch_. He certainly wasn’t blind enough to be immune to the idea of Isabela’s charms on display, and Adelaide, oh Adelaide, naked and breathless and warm and head thrown back, was the best of all possible sights on Thedas.

_Of course, I was still a sworn Brother back then, so given the opportunity I would’ve turned around and left. Sometimes I’m an idiot._

“Well, no,” Adelaide admitted easily in counterpoint to his own tangled thoughts, a slight wry twist to her mouth that made him want to kiss her, right at the corner where her lips curved up, “but Orlesian? They always sound like they’re constipated.”

“They do, don’t they?” Merrill sounded positively enraptured, as if that description explained something important. “I wonder if that’s why they’re all so grouchy all the time, staring down their noses at people.”

“Considering what they always tried to make us eat at their parties, I wouldn’t be at all surprised, Kitten.”

Sebastian heard himself chuckle in agreement, though everyone else seemed to have been swallowed up by stunned silence.

“What?” Isabela looked around, eyes wide. “I did used to get dragged to such things. Or occasionally host them, even. It’s why I never go now, no matter how nicely Hawke bats her pretty brown eyes at me."

“You’ll have to tell me how you do that.” Sebastian smiled slightly. It was impossible to stay annoyed at Isabela, especially when he could recall getting dragged to quite too many of the same sorts of parties himself.

“Do what, Vael?” Isabela tilted her head to eye him suspiciously.

“Resist the pretty brown eyes. I never can.”

“Of course you can’t. You’re in _love_.” Isabela fluttered her eyelashes at him with a chuckle. “Plus, you like being nice. I, on the other hand, quite relish not being nice.”

“That’s not true!” Merrill insisted. “You’re very nice!”

“Shh, Kitten, don’t tell anyone." Isabela lifted one finger to push against her pursed lips, then dropped her hand with a wink. "You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Fenris suddenly moved from his corner and approached the table on silent feet, “do you even know what your reputation is?”

“If I don’t, who would?” Isabela’s lips curved as Fenris leaned in closer.

“I could show you, if you’d like.”

“You’re just trying to stop me bothering your friend the blushing former Brother, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.” The slightest hint of a smile hovered across his mouth, his green eyes sharp and still as he stared at Isabela.

“Well, it’s absolutely working. Come along.” And she grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room. “Later, all!”

“Much later,” Fenris’ soft growl barely carried back into the room before they disappeared down the hallway.

“So, what shall we do by ourselves tonight, Varric?” Merrill asked.

“What, are we alone, Daisy?”

“Well, Isabela dragged Fenris off. And Hawke and Sebastian are still staring at each other in the middle of the room, which usually means one of them will drag the other off in a little while. They seem to take turns. Which means just you and me. Unless Anders or Aveline show up.”

“Aveline already left,” Sebastian croaked, trying not to think about how he'd just been trying to formulate a polite excuse for leaving.

“Why did Aveline leave?” _Speak of the abomination and he appears._ “And why are Hawke and Sebastian just standing in the middle of the room blushing? You’re in the way, you know.” Anders rather pointedly aimed the last bit at Sebastian rather than Hawke, even though Adelaide was closer to the door.

"Nice to see you, too, Anders." Sebastian was rather proud that he'd managed to just sound dry. They sometimes didn't hate each other. Much.

Anders snorted softly in appreciation as he collapsed next to Varric.

"How's tricks in Darktown, Blondie?"

"Dark. And tricky. With a side of oozing sores and phlegm from the latest round of lung-rot."

Varric grunted. "That time of year again already?"

"Apparently." Anders shifted slightly, raising an eyebrow at the duo still standing beside the table. "And no one answered my question. Either of them."

"The Captain does not appreciate our taste in writing materials," Varric grinned. "Which actually answers both your questions rather handily, I think."

"It has a very pretty cover," Merrill piped up, sliding yet another pamphlet in front of Anders. _They keep finding more of them. Is there a stash hiding under the table or something? Could I accidentally knock a candle over on them, in that case?_ "I think Varric and Isabela did a lovely job. I know Isabela likes the threesome at the end, but I truly thought the scene on the rooftop was the best."

Adelaide suddenly started coughing, and Sebastian quickly turned away from the table to pat her on the back. Which couldn't have been more obvious if they'd tried, and Varric took one look at them and burst into a deep chesty laugh, much louder than the usual amused chuckle he aimed at their antics. "Oh, Rivaini will never forgive me for getting to see your faces when she didn't." He slapped Anders on the shoulder in appreciation, though the healer just rolled his eyes. "Do it again?"

"No," Adelaide shook her head. "And I think I'm running away before you start guessing all sorts of things and making assumptions based on my horrified reactions."

"Splendid idea," Sebastian agreed, holding out one arm. She slid her hand gently around his elbow, and he smiled as she stepped in close, snug against his side.

"You realize I'm still going to read the entire thing and assume they got at least part of it right now, don't you?" Anders smirked.

"As long as I don't have to hear about it, I don't care what you think I get up to behind closed doors," Adelaide shrugged.

"Or on top of the Estate?"

"Shut up, Varric."

The dwarf smiled slowly. "Perish the thought."

Sebastian choked out a relatively coherent farewell, and turned them both toward the door. "Goodnight, Merrill," Adelaide called out over her shoulder.

They escaped The Hanged Man and began a leisurely stroll back towards Hightown, Adelaide worrying at her lower lip with her teeth, periodically shooting glances at him through her eyelashes.

Which was an enjoyable enough sight that he refrained from saying anything until they were almost at the Estate. "Do you have something you wish to confess?"

"Ohh," she pursed her lips, "you said it just that way on purpose."

"Perhaps," he whispered, breath catching in his throat as he watched her eyes blink slowly closed, a shiver cross her face. Better than wine, or ale, or even Varric's infamous blue liquor, the way her body softened, just for him. "May I have this dance?"

The slightly dazed look as she opened her eyes and stared at his sudden change of topic was delightful, amusement bubbling in his chest, lust searing his blood, and he leaned in and kissed her, sucking gently on her bottom lip, red and warm and swollen in his mouth from the pressure of her teeth.

He felt her sigh against him when he lifted his head, a smile playing across her mouth. "I enjoy every sort of dance with you," she whispered, "but there's no music?"

" _Teann a-nall 's thoir dhomh do làmh_ ," he sang gently, and her smile widened into a grin.

"I remember that one." She sidestepped in front of him, sliding their arms apart until his fingers were wrapped around hers, his other hand resting on the small of her back, holding her close. She leaned her head against his shoulder with another gentle sigh, her fingers loose against his upper arm.

So he sang, quietly, right above her head as she hummed along, and they slid gently around the courtyard, back and forth and around and around, the gentle tap of his boots echoed by hers, her body leaning easily after him each time he turned.

He sang through all the verses he knew once, twice, three times, and they slowly came to a stop in front of the door to the Estate. Their door.

" _Is gràdhaich leam thu_.” Adelaide's whisper was soft and hesitant, her breath light against his neck.

He swallowed a shiver of his own, _she learned that for me_ , and kissed her gently on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. " _Mo ghràdh bithbhuan_ , my Adelaide."

He could feel her breath catch as she listened to him, her body quiver in his arms. His stomach clenched; he needed more than moonlight and music. He wanted silk and skin and the taste of her on his tongue and the heat of her wrapped around him.

"Sebastian?"

"Mmmm?" He was listening, really he was, but he was also edging them closer to the door. _Bedroom. Or rooftop, since Varric went and brought it up..._

"Do you still have a set of robes?"

His feet stuttered to a halt, his arms tightening around her. He wasn't sure his brain was working well enough to swallow, much less talk. "Do I, what?"

"Well, the cover of that thing, and the pose, it got me _thinking_ , and if you still have your robes from when you were serving, well, could I borrow them?" She stepped back, away from his chest, looking up at him through eyes gone dark and deep. "Do you have something _you_ wish to confess?"

**Author's Note:**

> Sebastian's song, available for listening, and transcribed in both scots gaelic and english, can be found here, for those who are curious: [http://www.bbc.co.uk/alba/foghlam/beag_air_bheag/songs/song_04/page_03.shtml]()


End file.
